Chapter 5

At 7:30 PM, Kerry and Zoe pulled up to the driveway of The Forest Hotel, a sprawling, ultra-luxury estate on the outskirts of the city.

They stepped out of the car looking like polar opposites. Kerry wore a sleek, tailored black button-down and black trousers, her feet planted practically in pointed black flats. Zoe, on the other hand, was poured into a white off-the-shoulder cocktail dress, balancing precariously on four-inch strappy stilettos.

The second Zoe’s heels hit the pavement, she grabbed Kerry’s arm in a death grip. "Hold me up," she muttered.

Kerry’s face remained entirely deadpan. "Take off the sunglasses, sweetie. You're walking on a paved, flat road."

Zoe slid her designer shades down the bridge of her nose. She glanced sideways, finally registering Kerry’s all-black, severe ensemble. "Why are you dressed like my bodyguard?"

"To make you look more like the boss," Kerry replied without missing a beat.

Zoe accepted this logic instantly, lifting her chin to gaze imperiously ahead. "My dad actually dared to look down on my company. When I asked him for this invitation, he told me I’d come home crying tonight. He told me to shut the doors before I even officially opened them. What kind of parent is that? He's terrified I’ll suddenly strike it rich and surpass him."

"It just means your dad is competitive," Kerry said smoothly. "He only wants you to be wealthy because of him. He doesn’t want to be wealthy because of you."

Bickering back and forth, they made their way into the grand hall. Halfway across the plush carpet, Zoe caught something out of the corner of her eye and stopped dead, staring like a hawk at a group of middle-aged men laughing by the bar.

Kerry followed her line of sight. "What is it?"

"The guy in the brown suit," Zoe said, her voice dropping to a hyper-focused whisper. "That’s Ray Singer. The VP of Summit Media. They’re the reigning champions of the culture and media industry. If I can just get a foot in the door with him tonight, I’ll never have to worry about my company starving."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Kerry nudged her. "Go pay your respects to our future sugar daddy."

They stood off to the side, waiting. They looked like two beautiful women sipping champagne, but their eyes were practically glowing with predatory hunger. Finally, the crowd around Ray Singer thinned out. Finding her opening, Zoe marched forward, moving surprisingly fast in her stilettos.

Zoe had majored in communications. During college, when a housing shortage had dumped her into the math department’s dorms to room with Kerry, it had been the ultimate clash of personalities. Zoe was a master talker; she could pull a conversation out of a brick wall. Kerry never worried about her social skills. In fact, Kerry was pretty sure her own sharp tongue was eighty percent Zoe’s fault.

Watching from a polite distance, Kerry couldn't hear the conversation, but it looked promising. That is, until an assistant leaned in to whisper something in Ray’s ear. Ray gave Zoe a polite, dismissive nod and walked away, leaving his assistant to deal with her.

Kerry wasn't sure how it had played out, so she found a quiet seat to wait.

She hadn’t even warmed the cushion before Zoe was storming back, rolling her eyes so hard she looked like she might give herself an aneurysm. Kerry stood up to meet her. "That was fast."

"If my dad hadn't ordered me not to cause a scene and embarrass him, I would have slapped that guy across the face!" Zoe fumed.

Kerry glanced over Zoe's shoulder. Ray Singer’s assistant was still staring in their direction. Specifically, he was staring straight at Kerry.

Zoe angrily grabbed Kerry’s arm. "Don't look at him."

"Why?" Kerry asked, genuinely curious. "Did he make a pass at you?"

Zoe couldn't hold it back anymore. "He's not nearly handsome enough to be having the kind of dirty thoughts he’s having! He was looking at you!"

Kerry blinked. "Me?"

"While Ray was there, the guy was a perfect gentleman," Zoe hissed, grinding her teeth. "The second the boss walked away, his true colors came out. Shameless prick..."

Kerry brushed it off instantly, patting Zoe’s arm to soothe her. "Don't be mad. If the deal falls through, we keep our dignity."

Zoe shot her a dirty look. "You got rejected by eight clients in one month. Do you really have the right to preach to me?"

Kerry pressed her lips together and stayed quiet. We’re both the type who'd rather take a bullet than beg.

But Zoe wasn't about to give up. The failure only fueled her fire. They took the elevator up to the second-floor VIP lounge, where she quickly spotted Ray Singer again, sitting on a massive, curved sofa surrounded by industry heavyweights.

"You hang back," Zoe instructed. "If you see a chance to sell yourself, take it. I’m going back in."

Zoe was a force of nature. She didn't hesitate. Kerry wasn't worried she’d mess it up—until a specific silhouette suddenly appeared in the lounge.

A dangerously familiar silhouette.

The man was easily over six-foot-two, standing out in the crowd like a wolf among sheep. The moment he walked in, the entire group of executives on the sofa scrambled to their feet. They instantly gave up the center seat, the seat of absolute power.

From a distance, Kerry watched as Clifton Condon sat down.

Zoe had been making a beeline for Ray Singer, halfway through pulling out her business card. Clif’s arrival completely shattered the room's atmosphere. All the casual, back-patting banter vanished. Every single man in the circle immediately shifted their focus, watching Clif’s face, eager to kiss the ring.

Zoe wasn't stupid. As a local, she knew exactly what Clifton Condon's status was in this city. He was entirely out of her league. But she was already standing right in front of him, and to back down now would look weak.

Steeling her nerves, Zoe offered her business card with both hands, flashing a brilliant, professional smile. "Hello, Mr. Condon. I’m Zoe Price. It’s an honor to meet you."

Clif’s face remained terrifyingly blank. He didn't even look at her. Ray Singer eagerly leaned in to light his cigarette. Clif took a drag, treating Zoe like she didn't exist.

Zoe’s face instantly flushed a hot, humiliated red, which quickly drained to a sickening pale. But she maintained her polite smile, slowly pulled her hand back, and nodded. "Apologies for the interruption."

The embarrassment was visceral. But honestly, compared to the crushing pressure of just standing near Clifton Condon, Zoe just wanted to escape.

But the room wasn't going to let her.

"Isn't Miss Price a little too eager?" one of the executives mocked, laughing. "Handing out cards to anyone with a pulse? Do you think Mr. Condon just takes cards from anyone off the street?"

Another man, sporting a severely receding hairline, chimed in with a sleazy grin. "Maybe a business card is the wrong approach. Try handing him a room key instead. A change of venue might make him more talkative."

The circle erupted into crude laughter.

Zoe stood in the center of it, holding her breath, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

And then, right at the peak of the humiliation, a cool, familiar voice rang out from behind her.

"What a coincidence, Mr. Condon. You’re here too."

Zoe whipped around. Kerry was walking toward them.

Kerry’s face was an effortless mask of calm grace. She completely ignored the men laughing on the sofas. Her dark eyes locked dead onto the center of the room—straight into Clifton Condon’s face.

The executives, all sharp, calculating sharks, didn't immediately react. They swept their eyes over Kerry from head to toe, then subtly checked Clif's expression to gauge the weather.

Clif was staring right back at Kerry. His expression didn't change, but to the utter shock of the room, he actually spoke to her.

"What are you doing here?" Clif asked, his voice low and utterly dismissive. "Taking on a side hustle?"

Kerry smiled effortlessly. She stepped up and lightly touched Zoe’s arm. "Not me. I'm just keeping my best friend company. She just opened a new media firm, so we came to learn a few things from the seniors in the industry."

Just because Clif had deigned to speak exactly one sentence to Kerry, the entire dynamic of the room inverted. The men's minds raced, calculating the odds.

Before Clif could even respond, Ray Singer immediately stood up. "Ah," he said smoothly. "So you’re Mr. Condon’s friend."

Without another word, Ray stepped aside, openly offering his premium seat—right next to Clifton Condon—to Kerry.

Previous Chapter
Next Chapter